


coral knuckles (sweet and a little psycho)

by suheafoams



Series: coral knuckles universe [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Biting, Character Study, Getting Together, M/M, Marking, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tongue Piercings, bad boy! woojin, student president chan, ur typical good boi x bad boi fic, woojin is a little bit obsessive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suheafoams/pseuds/suheafoams
Summary: “Don’t flutter your eyelashes at me,” Chan hisses. “Explain yourself.”“It’s a little hard to explain,” Woojin says, offering a small smile in the hopes that it’ll diffuse the fury in Chan’s face.It doesn’t do shit. Woojin is so fucked, but if he plays his cards right, it’ll be the right kind of fucked.





	coral knuckles (sweet and a little psycho)

**Author's Note:**

> SURPRISE. IM BACK. posting twice in one year? unheard of. get ready to never hear from me again. (jokes. still working on the super long woochan fic but life is...busy, and english is starting to just look like random symbols to me from how much im writing.)
> 
> if you don't approve of ~spicy~ woochan... go home. LMAO  
> if ur on the fence about reading, read this for the visual of student president chan having a tongue piercing if nothing else pls 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy ♥

An odd combination of fear and satisfaction rushes through Woojin the moment he gets pulled out of the hallway and dragged into an empty storage closet, barely registering the familiar scent of cologne before an even more familiar pair of eyes are on him. 

“So nice to see you again, student president,” Woojin says, with a playful wiggle of his fingers. 

Chan’s wearing a white dress shirt, every button fastened except the top one. _That’s not very convenient,_ Woojin thinks, as he looks downward to see what type of pants Chan is wearing, but then his attention is forced back up when he gets pulled dangerously close to Chan’s face, their noses almost colliding. 

“I thought I told you to stop fighting,” Chan says, fists curled in Woojin’s shirt. It’s clear that this is the angriest he’s ever been because his voice is eerily calm, completely devoid of the warmth it has even when he’s irritated, and Woojin shifts uncomfortably as he wonders whether he’s gone too far. “I thought you’d changed for the better.” 

“They started it first,” Woojin replies, covering the bruise on the corner of his mouth, since Chan might get even more mad if he starts to focus in on the injury beyond his perception of Woojin’s general stupidity. 

“Just because someone does something doesn’t mean you have to return it,” Chan says. “You could get seriously hurt if one day some nut head decides he wants to bring out a knife or a gun. Or a whole army of guys twice your size gangs up on you.” He narrows his eyes, then lets go of Woojin’s clothes roughly, taking several deep breaths to collect his composure. “And I know you were the one who started the fight this time, so don’t even try lying to me.”

Woojin blinks innocently up at him, despite knowing it won’t help his case much because there’s no one as well-versed in his behavior patterns as Bang Chan. 

“Don’t flutter your eyelashes at me,” Chan hisses. “Explain yourself.”

In any other situation, Woojin tries his best not to let Chan down. That’s why he’d stopped smoking, stopped fooling around with people who didn’t actually care about him, stopped the going out late at night in favor of spending all his free time at Chan’s apartment.

Somehow, somewhere, the secretive stares had turned in lingering hands, into clothes getting pulled off of each other and Chan mumbling compliments into open mouthed kisses as he fucked Woojin into oblivion. But then Woojin had botched things up by asking for _more_ , and ever since then, the straight laced president has been avoiding Woojin like he’s the plague.

“It’s a little hard to explain,” Woojin says, offering a small smile in the hopes that it’ll diffuse the fury in Chan’s face.

It doesn’t do shit. Woojin is so fucked, but if he plays his cards right, it’ll be the right kind of fucked.

“I have time,” Chan says, leaning against the shelf in the corner of the closet. “So why don’t you start telling me about why you’ve got complete lack of development in your frontal lobe?”

Woojin pretends to be offended. “That’s really a very harmful thing to say,” he says in response to the dig at his decision making abilities. “We can’t all be geniuses like you, Chan—”

“I hate when you’re like this,” Chan says, and the way his anger morphs into disappointment makes Woojin immediately forget whatever the rest of his sentence was going to be. “When you’re not listening to anything anyone’s saying, and you turn the conversation away from yourself because you don’t give a single shit about improving. Do you have a death wish?”

Anger, frustration, Woojin can deal with. Disappointment, though, slices at him like a knife freshly sharpened, especially if it’s coming from Chan, who always expects better from Woojin because he _knows_ Woojin’s capable of greater things. 

“Sorry,” Woojin says quietly. 

“You think one _sorry_ is going to cut it?” Chan says. “How do you think the people who care about you feel when you go and do stupid shit like that?”

“My parents don’t care,” Woojin says. His older brother, Woosung, is the golden child of the family, and Woojin knows that his mother and father choose to focus on Woosung’s achievements in science over their youngest child acting out so that they sleep better at night. They’re also not around to see what Woojin is doing while he’s away at university, which leaves him with more freedom than he needs, honestly. “They think I’m hopeless.” 

“What about me?” Chan asks. “How do you think I feel?”

“I didn’t think you cared either,” Woojin says, knowing very well it’s not true. After all, he’d chosen to pick a fight with some particularly volatile students, knowing that it would make Chan pay attention to him in the aftermath.

“How could I not care—“ Chan says, back to looking like he wants to knock Woojin out with a punch. His hands tremble. “You piss me off so badly, Woojin. You know that?” 

Bullseye.

Gathering what remains of his courage, Woojin stares up at Chan through his bangs and asks coyly, “Are you going to punish me?”

“What am I, your _mom_?” Chan asks, but that’s probably because he hasn’t seen how Woojin’s looking at him yet. “It’s not like I’m going to ground you—”

Their eyes meet just as Woojin wets his mouth, then bites on his shiny lower lip, and Chan’s face shifts in simple realization.

“Woojin.” Chan’s brows furrow. “You can’t be serious.”

On the inside, Woojin is thrilled. Every page Chan turns gets him closer to being on the same one as Woojin, but it’s no fun if Woojin reveals his true motives right away. He asks, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Not all of us are smart enough to play mind games,” Woojin says, teasingly, and Chan makes a _tsk_ of annoyance. 

“Both of us know exactly just how smart you are, so stop falling back on that excuse,” Chan says. “Are you trying to get off on me being angry?” 

“I don’t know,” Woojin says, even as his smile transforms into something darker. “Is that just you projecting, Channie?” 

Chan scoffs. “Give it to me straight, Woojin.” Even so, a corner of his mouth twists as he says it, and Woojin knows he’s got a significant chance of getting what he wants. 

“Maybe,” says Woojin, with a mischievous tilt of his head, and Chan laughs in disbelief. 

“You’re so…” 

“So hot?” Woojin offers unhelpfully, shrugging when Chan pushes him. “So are you gonna act on it, or are you just going to keep on lecturing me about safety all day?” 

Nothing about Chan’s behavior gives his intentions away, but he uses crossed arms to pin Woojin against the wall, and Woojin lets him. “What makes you think I’m going to give you what you want so easily?” Chan asks. 

“Best of both worlds,” Woojin purrs. “You get to teach me a lesson, I get to learn from my mistakes.”

“I’m not sure you’re going to learn anything if I’m essentially rewarding you for bad behavior,” Chan says, in the same virtuous tone of voice that Woojin has heard him use to gently scold the freshmen and sophomores he tutors a couple times a month. 

“Or you could fuck me until I don’t have any energy left to get myself in trouble,” Woojin suggests, pleased to see a muscle in Chan’s jaw twitch. “That’s another solution. You can spank me, too, if you want.”

“ _Woojin_.” Chan says. “We’re at school.” _Don’t rile me up,_ is what he means, and Woojin has to hold back the giggle of happiness that stupidly wants to burst out of him at how right now, 100% of Chan’s attention is on him and only him. He’s so selfish that he wants it to stay that way forever. 

“You don’t have any more classes today, right?” Woojin says. For his own convenience, he’s committed Chan’s entire weekly schedule to his memory, all the way down to the hour, so that he knows exactly when he’s allowed to barge in and ask for attention. “Perfect. Neither do I.”

“I agreed to make a visit to the music club in an hour,” Chan says absentmindedly, but he doesn't look too hard-pressed about sticking to that promise. “They asked me to make an appearance.” 

“Tell them something more important came up,” Woojin coaxes. Desire leaps out from the bottom of his stomach and curls its sharp claws around his ribs, and his smile grows wider when, to his surprise, Chan actually agrees. 

❀

Chan’s apartment is neat, as usual. On the surface, he’s exactly the kind of guy girls dream of dating: good at studying, good at sports, good at _people_ , with the sweetest disposition that has him speaking softly even at times when he’s been provoked into anger. It’s too bad for them that he’s got trust issues and a tendency to gravitate towards not-so-sweet boys like Kim Woojin, who are every bit as much trouble as they look. 

“You don’t have any serious injuries, right?” Chan asks once the front door is locked and he’s pulling his shoes off. 

“No,” Woojin says, following suit to remove his sneakers, the buzz of anticipation in him making him more fidgety than usual. “Why?” 

“Just making sure,” Chan says. He seems to have relaxed, temporarily forgetting about Woojin’s confession a month ago. “Don’t know how hard I’m allowed to handle you.” 

The words drain what little moisture Woojin has left in his mouth, and he says, “As hard as you like. Break some bones while you’re at it.” 

“You’ve got no sense of danger,” Chan says. He takes off his watch and heavy, silver bracelets, most likely because he doesn't want to hurt Woojin on accident later on, leaving them on the coffee table with a loud _clink_. “What if you meet someone who actually wants to break your bones? You’re going to be left for dead with no one to help you.” 

“It’s a good thing I’m dealing with you, then,” Woojin says. “Right?”

Hands settle on either side of Woojin’s hips. Woojin likes the solid weight of Chan’s hands on him. “You’ve lost weight,” Chan notes. “Not eating again?” 

Woojin’s not very good at taking care of himself beyond basic survival, but that’s nothing new. “I’ve been so stressed because you haven’t been talking to me, Channie,” he says, in a cuter, higher pitched voice than his default speaking voice. 

“Shut up,” Chan says, using his thumb and index finger to twist at the soft skin just above Woojin’s waistband. The simmering want lurking in Woojin inflates into roaring arousal, leaving him unable to think about much else besides making sure Chan keeps touching him. “Surely it wasn’t that bad.” 

“It was that bad,” Woojin says, “I was so lonely I had to jerk off to pictures of you in my phone—” he moans obscenely as soon as Chan pulls him into a hot, wet kiss to make him stop talking. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t try something on the car ride home,” Chan says, after pulling away for air. 

“Wouldn’t have wanted you to drive into a ditch. I know how much you prioritize _safety_ after all.” Woojin lets the words run off his tongue like syrup. Chan’s mouth is swollen, flushed a pretty coral pink, similar to how his knuckles flush in cold, icy temperatures during winter. _Pretty_ , Woojin thinks, when he recalls the memory of quiet afternoon walks with Chan in December. It’s spring now, though, so maybe the rosiness of Chan’s skin also resembles the cherry blossoms blooming on campus. “Aren’t I so considerate?” 

“Very,” Chan says, and then he’s back to kissing Woojin again, hands tugging Woojin’s shirt up and over his head before they return to rest on Woojin’s stomach. His nails aren’t sharp, by any means, but they still bring up goosebumps when he drags them lightly across Woojin’s nipples, then down the center of his abs. In contrast, Woojin’s own nails are thin and sharp despite how short he keeps them, so he has to be careful whenever letting them come into contact with Chan’s skin. 

“Off, off,” Woojin murmurs, jamming hands up Chan’s shirt and making an annoyed grunt when he realizes it’s fitted, and it won’t work to pull it upwards unless he wants to rip the shirt and be on the receiving end of Chan’s wrath about ruining perfectly good clothes in the heat of the moment. “Wear a t-shirt for once.” 

“That would make it too easy for you,” Chan says, continuing to feel Woojin up as Woojin focuses on unbuttoning Chan’s shirt. 

“I’m going to destroy all your button-up shirts,” Woojin says venomously, but he shudders at the sensation of Chan’s lips brushing against his ear. “Set them on fire.” 

“You would never, because you like the way I look in them,” Chan says, and he isn’t wrong. 

Soon, the buttons are all free of their restraints, and Woojin tosses the shirt to the ground as Chan pulls them close together so that they’re pressed chest against chest, so close that Woojin wonders if Chan can hear how fast his heart is beating, the rush of adrenaline that surges through his veins. 

Chan leaves a dotted path of kisses down Woojin’s chin and neck and collarbones, then licks a stripe right back up the side of Woojin’s neck and jaw, the coolness of his tongue piercing making the rest of Woojin burn even hotter. 

“I almost forgot that you have a tongue piercing,” Woojin says breathlessly, and possessiveness swells up in him when he thinks of how few people know about the secret in Chan’s mouth, because he so rarely smiles with his mouth open, and only _Woojin_ knows the way it feels to have the metal drag against his skin. “So hot.”

Chan only laughs in response, mouth still on Woojin, and the vibration makes Woojin ticklish. He hooks both arms around Chan’s neck as he grinds against Chan impatiently, barely resisting the urge to just climb _onto_ Chan, who’d be able to handle the weight with no problem. 

“Needy,” Chan remarks. “Where do you want me to put you?” 

“On your dick,” Woojin says, nothing processing normally in his brain beyond simple want and arousal and attraction. He’s nothing if not shameless about asking for what he wants, but part of that is because Chan is always kind enough to give it to him. 

“No, idiot,” but Chan is laughing, and that’s a good sign, “like, my bed? Or the wall. Or—” 

“Yes,” Woojin says sloppily, mind too cloudy to care.

Chan being Chan, decides on his bed probably because of _safety_ reasons, picking Woojin up like he’s a feather, and walks the agonizing fifteen feet to the doorway of his room, tossing Woojin onto the bed almost violently. Woojin settles into the softness of Chan’s blankets. He’s so hard, and he’s about to rub himself through his jeans when Chan makes a noise of warning at him. 

“What?” 

“No touching yourself yet,” Chan says. 

“Fine,” Woojin says, curling his fingers tightly into a fist to hold off the temptation. “You’re going to take care of me instead, right?” 

“Yeah,” Chan says, and chooses then to climb over Woojin’s body, fingers skimming over the waistband of Woojin’s pants. The skin between Chan’s collarbones and pecs flush bright pink, and Woojin reaches out to touch greedily. 

Off go Woojin’s pants, which are too tight for Chan to remove without turning inside out. Woojin is vaguely aware of his jeans getting tossed off to the side of the bed, but his focus is soon led elsewhere when Chan slips into Woojin’s briefs and curls warm fingers around Woojin’s cock, using what’s already leaked out of the slit to make the slide easier, smoother. Woojin all but melts into the touch, extra sensitive after weeks of not seeing Chan, let alone getting touched by him. 

“Cute,” Chan says. He’s so accustomed to Woojin’s body that he knows the warning signs of impending completion, and he gives Woojin a smug look every time he backs off just as Woojin’s about to go off the edge and come. Then just as quickly as it’s taken away, the friction returns, so intense that there’s nothing in Woojin’s eyes except flashes of black and white, and the muscles in his thighs and ass contract as he feels the pressure building up rapidly, all physical sources of sensation redirected to one single point at the pit of his stomach, behind his balls. 

Abruptly, there’s nothing, and he blinks a few times before he realizes that Chan’s hands are no longer on him. “Chan—” he whimpers, making grabby motions. “Come back.” 

“Stay there,” Chan orders, stepping away from the bed after gifting one last tug on Woojin’s cock, and Woojin groans, still unbelievably horny, confused as to why he’s alone on Chan’s bed now. 

“What the fuck?” He inhales, nervous. It’s cold, without Chan’s body pinning him down. “Chan, what are you doing? I’m going to die.” 

“You won’t die from a little waiting,” Chan says calmly. “You should learn to exercise some patience.” 

“Why?” is all Woojin can utter, and he tries to stroke himself only to get slapped on the thigh by Chan, as if he’s a child who has deeply misbehaved.

“Because you deserve a little suffering after making me worry like that,” Chan says. 

Woojin assumes Chan is talking about the fact that he got himself into another fight. “I’m fine, right?” he says, trying to sound confident, but it comes out whiny and weak. “Nothing to worry about. Just a few scratches.” A little bruise on the corner of his mouth, but it’s probably nothing compared to the angry, red marks that will undoubtedly be scattered all over his body when he wakes up tomorrow. 

“I saw you from the third story bridge between the chem and physics department,” Chan says, and Woojin’s eyes widen. He hadn’t realized Chan had actually witnessed him fighting. “Taking on five guys by yourself. What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“That’s only because…” Woojin frowns. He’d been planning on three opponents, not five, but he doesn’t want to tell Chan that because it’ll just freak him out more, that Woojin wasn’t in complete control. Woojin had still made it out relatively injury-free, and that’s all that matters. He puts on the best pair of puppy eyes he can manage for someone who has always refused to act cute for anyone else. “Channie, don’t ruin the mood.” 

“What mood am I ruining?” Chan says, arching an eyebrow. “I can just blow you right now and call it a day, if you’re not willing to be patient. That’s pretty nice of me, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Woojin whines, squirming. A blowjob is nice, but what he wants is to be fucked so hard he can’t walk out of Chan’s apartment for a week. “You’re so—!” 

“I’m so what?” Chan asks. He never fails to sound sweet, even when he’s being mean. The least Woojin can do to comfort himself is remember that Chan hardly ever shows this kind of ruthlessness to anyone else, and that has to mean Woojin’s special to him. “If you say anything I don’t like, my feelings might be too hurt for me to continue doing anything with you.” 

In reply, Woojin grabs at the sheets, limbs shaking as he growls into the pillow loudly. 

“Half an hour,” Chan says. “If you manage to hold out for that long without coming, I’ll do whatever you want afterwards.” 

“I hate you,” Woojin lets slip in his desperation, and Chan chuckles, the deepness of it striking Woojin like a lightning bolt, making him want to come right then and there. 

“You sure you want to be saying something like that, Woojinnie? At a time like this?”

“I’m sorry,” Woojin says, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes when Chan reaches over to dig nails into the sensitive, upper part of his thighs. “I’ll be good.”

“Good,” Chan replies. 

Except the catch is, Woojin doesn’t get to spend the half hour free of stimulation, in silence.

Nope. Chan spends the first fifteen minutes whispering all of the things he _wants_ to do to Woojin without letting any parts of their bodies touch, leaving Woojin to writhe hopelessly with his cock constantly leaking pre-cum, and Woojin starts to wonder if Chan is all evil and zero kindness as his brain attempts to shut off all processing methods towards sensation as a protective measure. In the second half, Chan starts to kiss and suck at various areas of Woojin’s body, steering clear of the region that needs attention the most. Woojin’s thighs alone probably look like the aftermath of a crime scene, and there is no ideal material or outfit that Woojin will be able to wear for the next week without feeling a sting against his soft wounds. 

By the time thirty minutes have passed, Woojin is so close to being dead from sexual frustration that he doesn’t even anticipate Chan’s hands returning to touch him, and his dick swells in relief at the sudden warmth of fingers wrapping around it. 

“Oh my god,” Woojin mumbles. There is a silhouette made of sparkling stars and planets where Chan’s body is supposed to be, and that probably means Woojin has crossed into the afterlife. What a way to go. “Is it over?”

“It’s just starting,” Chan says, laughing at how dysfunctional Woojin has become. Based on how Chan’s voice wobbles just ever so slightly, though, his self-control is starting to wane as well. Woojin’s throat is so dry as he registers Chan taking off his own pair of slacks and underwear before getting on the bed, thighs pressing up against the back of Woojin’s. “You’re so obedient. You’re so good.” 

“The things that I do for you,” Woojin says, grumpily.

“Yes,” Chan says, and asks with the most infuriating tone of faux obtuseness, “Now what would you like from me?”

“You know,” Woojin whines, words not even coming out steadily, no longer remembering what it feels like to not have his whole body shaking in anticipation. “Channie, you know, so hurry the fuck up.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not really sure what you want,” Chan teases, and Woojin is either going to die or destroy his vocal cords screaming at Chan.

“Fuck me,” Woojin spits out. In his feverish state, he doesn’t really pay attention to the sound of a cap clicking and a wrapper being ripped open. He kind of wants to kick Chan, because it’s been two million years and Chan’s dick is still not inside him, but he’s also afraid of any bigger consequences he’ll face if he lashes out. “In the ass, you stupid and mean and absolutely obnoxious bully—”

“That’s a lot of words for someone who managed to keep quiet for half an hour,” Chan says. “What would people think, if they knew Kim Woojin was such a whiny brat in bed?”

“What would people think if they found out that your real personality is _demonic_ ,” Woojin retorts, though there isn’t any bite to it because he hasn’t got the right amount of energy or leverage to be insulting Chan. 

“Demonic, huh?” Without any warning, Chan pulls Woojin’s ass towards him and presses a cold, lubed up finger into Woojin’s hole, and the unexpected intrusion makes Woojin inhale sharply in both relief and pressure. “I suppose I can fulfill your claims of me being demonic, ‘cause that seems like what you want.”

Woojin props his arms up behind him so that he can tilt his hips up for Chan to have easier access. Chan slowly and gradually works his way up to three fingers, bending them at various angles until he finally finds what he’s looking for, and Woojin jerks at the new wave of pleasure that ripples throughout his entire body from his prostate being stimulated. 

“Oh, fuck,” Woojin says, barely able to breathe. “Chan, Channie, please—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chan says. “I’m here, don’t worry.” 

Chan takes out his fingers, and for a second of internal panic, Woojin thinks he’s going to have to go through another awful session of no-touching-torture, but he’s quickly proven wrong as Chan presses the head of his cock against Woojin’s entrance, hovering but not actually entering.

“You’re so _slow_ ,” Woojin’s brave enough to complain, now that he knows Chan’s going to give it to him sooner or later. 

“Be patient,” Chan says, and pushes at the insides of Woojin’s elbows so that they bend and Woojin collapses onto his forearms. 

Chan bites hard into Woojin’s shoulder as he slides into Woojin, zero mercy in the way he pushes forth until he’s seated deep inside, but that’s the way Woojin likes it. Woojin’s eyes squeeze shut and he bites on his lower lip at the fullness inside him as well as the pain of Chan’s teeth in his flesh, so deeply embedded that he’ll probably be able to see individual, crimson indents in a crescent formation later.

“Open your mouth,” Chan says, and Woojin does as he says, letting Chan slip his tongue into the shared open space between their lips, savoring the taste of cold metal and Chan’s saliva.

Back flat against the bed and legs dangling on either side of Chan’s waist, Woojin starts whimpering when Chan straightens up and slams against his prostate over and over again, taking temporary breaks in the form of soft, gentle rolls of his hips that make Woojin want to shred the bedsheets into a million strips. After a few minutes, Chan keeps his hands on Woojin’s pectorals as he starts to thrust faster, scooting closer to make sure his cock hits as deep as possible inside of Woojin.

Woojin doesn’t last long, much too exhausted from all the stimulation and edging, and the final touch of Chan’s hand on his dick makes all of his muscles tense in preparation before he comes with a stifled moan, and Chan continues to grind into Woojin, chasing after his own orgasm.

Entire body coated in a layer of sweat, Woojin is already half gone when Chan pulls out and rolls the condom off of his cock just in time to come all over Woojin’s stomach, hot spurts of it painting thick stripes among Woojin’s own release. “Look at the art I made, Woojinnie. Want to give me a critique?” His eyes are so bright, and Woojin would probably kiss Chan if he hadn’t said something so disgusting. 

“Gross,” Woojin says, barely coherent. He’ll probably never be able to look any of his classmates in the eye during class critiques again. 

“Woojinnie,” Chan says, affectionately nuzzling Woojin’s cheek, and darkness fills Woojin’s vision as the world fully and completely slips out of his grasp.

❀

He wakes up to Chan having wiped both of them down, dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and ironed slacks as he reads through a textbook at the other end of the bed. Chan’s too far away, and now that his brain’s clear, Woojin’s a little anxious at the way Chan stares back at him, as if searching for some flashing sign or clue to help him figure out what Woojin’s made of. 

When he looks at his own body, he sees that he’s wearing one of Chan’s few dark pieces of clothing, a soft navy t-shirt with sleeves that reach just above his elbows. The attention to detail means that Chan cares about what Woojin likes, even if it’s something as seemingly insignificant as the color of a shirt.

He sits up, fabric of the oversized shirt covering him to mid-thigh. “Where am I?” he jokes, in attempts to disarm the weird tension in the air, and Chan tosses an eraser at him which hits him in the chest. “How long was I out?” 

“Almost half an hour,” Chan answers before a smile, a bit devious in nature, appears on his face. “Was it that good?”

“What do you think?” Woojin asks, narrowing his eyes at the rare display of Chan’s ego. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” 

“Because I feel like it,” Chan says, but he closes and sets his textbook aside after putting a pen on the page he’s left off on, crawling closer to Woojin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“You might have to carry me around for a week,” Woojin says. He tries lifting his hips to get up, but quickly decides he nor his limp shell of a body are ready for that yet. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Chan blushes, looking very unlike the type of guy who’d purposely deny Woojin orgasm privileges for half an hour just for the fun of it. “You asked for it.” He places a hand on Woojin’s bare thigh, thumb stroking back and forth on a patch of sparse hairs. The action is tinged with affection, and Woojin thinks that if he had a pocket-sized Chan to do that constantly, he’d be a lot more well behaved on a daily basis, or at least in a better mood. 

Chan licks his lips, and the embarrassment in his features is replaced by something contemplative. “Now that I’ve given you the dicking down that you wanted, are you going to tell me why you started a fight for no reason?” he asks. 

Woojin chews at his lower lip. With the veil of hormones and frantic desire removed, he’s starting to feel the tingle of pain in his lower back and wherever else Chan had been so generous as to bite him. The clarity in his head also makes him a little more wary about confessing his feelings a second time, since Chan didn’t react so well the first time around. 

It’s not like he wants Chan to gloat about being with him and parade their relationship all over social media. Such gestures, to Woojin, are overkill to a relationship perfectly functional and healthy in private. Woojin just wants reassurance that they’re exclusive, that he’s not the only one who’s obsessed because it’s scary to consider the possibility of him being the one led around by the nose for Chan’s mere amusement.

“Because you won’t date me,” Woojin says, after some deliberation. He’s in too deep anyways, and there’s no point in pretending he’s unaffected by Chan when it’ll only make him suffer in silence. Even if Chan doesn’t want to see him after this, Woojin got to have the student president’s body to himself one last time today. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Chan says, then seems to belatedly realize what lengths Woojin has gone to in order to obtain his attention. “Wait a second, did you do this because—Woojin!” 

“What?” 

“Did you purposely get into a fight so that you’d get hurt and I would pay attention to you?” 

Woojin only smiles at him, not answering directly, and Chan releases a long suffering sigh. “Are you _nuts_?” He grabs Woojin by the arm. 

“You’re going to hurt me,” Woojin whines, stomping down on the part of him that likes Chan being so aggressive. “Don’t be mad.”

“Shut up, I know you’re stronger than me,” Chan says, shaking Woojin hard, as if he hopes that the motion will shake some sense into Woojin’s brain. “How can I not be mad? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Woojin says.

“What do you mean _nothing?_ ” Chan says. “You actively put yourself in danger for something so stupid, and—”

“Your attention is not stupid,” Woojin says. “And I only pick fights I know I can win.” Without the two extra randos who showed up, Woojin wouldn’t have had gotten any injuries at all; he’d have faked them to mope about in front of Chan for sympathy.

“That’s not the point,” Chan says. “You shouldn’t be so reckless.”

“I’ll stop being reckless if you let me be your boyfriend,” Woojin says.

Chan’s grip relaxes, hand dropping to his side. “You’re seriously telling me all of this happened because you thought I wouldn’t date you?” he says, and Woojin recedes into the security of his borrowed shirt. 

Well, when Chan words it like that, he does feel a little silly for going to such extreme lengths.

The thing is, Chan might be nice to everyone, but at his core is a man whose true thoughts are always hidden away, and Woojin hadn’t been able to tell if Chan planned on keeping him around in the long run because Woojin knows he’s not the kind of guy girls want to bring home to meet their parents. Chan is president of the student body, an honor student who participates in clubs both due to his popularity and general interest in gathering more knowledge, and Woojin is an ex-delinquent who bristles at the thought of authority and has never asked for real love because no one ever wants him for more than one night.

There was only Chan, who’d taken one look at an unruly Woojin and easily tamed him until he was soft and pliant, like a stray cat turned well behaved after gentle head pats and tasty treats. But that doesn’t mean Chan is interested in Woojin becoming someone permanent in his life, either, because stray cats aren’t always adopted, and that thought makes Woojin unbearably anxious.

He pouts as he says, “You were avoiding me. How else was I going to get you to look at me?”

“By using your _words_ , like a normal person,” Chan says. “I know I haven’t been the greatest at communicating with you, but you could have texted me if you wanted to talk. I didn’t realize it was affecting you that much.”

“You know I hate texting,” Woojin says. “It’s not the same as seeing you face to face.”

“Sorry,” Chan says. He’s rubbing circles into Woojin’s thigh now, and it sends mixed signals when he pairs it with, “I don’t know if I can be your boyfriend, Woojin.”

Woojin inhales shakily. Rejection is scary, when he’s facing it head on for the first time and no longer pretending that he’s apathetic to the concept of love and validation. “Is it because I’m not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all,” Chan says. “There’s nothing about you that’s not good enough, Woojin. Even if you like to pretend you’re not, you’re very smart, both intellectually and emotionally, and you’d be a great candidate for anyone’s boyfriend if your prefrontal cortex wasn’t so unhinged—”

“My impulse control isn’t that awful,” Woojin interrupts, pausing. “Then why don’t you want to be in a relationship with me?” 

“I’m just not very good at the…” Chan sighs. “I can be nice to people, but I can’t be kind to you all the time. I can’t be the ultra perfect boyfriend you’re looking for.”

“You don’t have to be,” Woojin says. “You know that I like you just as much when you’re mean, too, right? Nothing has to change, Chan. I just wanted to be exclusive.”

He doesn't want a robot Chan to smile at him and pay for all his meals and drive him around to pretty places. He just wants the rawness of Bang Chan, who spends mornings trying so hard to style his wild natural curls into straighter locks, who cries when he's under too much pressure because of academics, who can’t cook anything beyond boiling water to save his life, who nags Woojin without any reservations because he’s not afraid of Woojin thinking less of him for being irritable. 

“Exclusive…” Chan echoes.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since I started hanging out with you,” Woojin says. “So not much will change on my side, but…” 

“Me neither,” Chan says.

“I like you just fine the way you are,” Woojin confesses. “I still like you when you make ugly faces, and when you cry, and when you’re nagging me because it means that you care. Of course, it’s great when you’re smiling and happy, but I also want to make sure it’s because you’re _really_ happy and not just faking it.” 

“So you’re fine with… me having off days? And not always being in a good mood?” Chan asks, like he wouldn’t have ever imagined people being okay with him being _human_. “You just want me to be yours, and yours only?” 

“Yeah,” Woojin says. “Besides, don’t you already act however you want around me?”

“Because I wasn’t trying to make a good impression before,” Chan says, and then it’s like a switch somewhere has flipped inside of him because he’s watching Woojin with newfound understanding. “I don’t know why, but I thought you were just hanging around me because you were bored.”

“I was bored, at first,” Woojin admits, “because all you do is study and look pretty and refuse to do anything irresponsible, but then I started learning more about you and—” his cheeks heat up, because Chan is starting to smile at him and that makes all sorts of wires in Woojin’s brain begin short circuiting. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why not?” Chan asks, not so sweetly, and there it is —a sliver of the guy who fucks Woojin into pillows until he’s a pile of tears and sweat and bruises. Woojin instinctively shrinks back, still sore and tired from what Chan’s already put him through earlier. “You asked me to spank you with a straight face, but I can’t look at you while you’re talking about me being pretty?”

“It’s embarrassing when it’s about ~feelings~,” Woojin says, resolutely staring past Chan’s face at the framed medals Chan has displayed on the wall. “You’re a bully.”

“I’m not the one who knocks out five guys by himself, but call me whatever you want.” He pauses, gazing intently into Woojin’s eyes. “I guess that includes the title of your boyfriend, too,” he says, and Woojin looks at him in surprise, hardly believing what he’s just heard.

“...Say that again.”

“Which part? That you can call me your boyfriend?” Chan says, corner of his mouth pulling upward in a teasing smirk, and Woojin doesn’t say anything back, just throws his arms around Chan’s neck in joy, nipping at Chan’s lips until Chan opens his mouth to Woojin and lets him savor the taste of metal once again.

❀❀❀

_2 months later_

“You’re dating Bang Chan?” Woojin hears from behind him, after their business class has been dismissed and he’s putting his things away into his backpack. 

When he turns around, he realizes it’s Hyunjin who’s asking the question, a mutual acquaintance between him and Chan. They don’t talk often but they’re chill enough with each other for Woojin to feel comfortable asking Hyunjin about getting notes if he falls asleep during the business professor’s lectures. 

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t _what_ me, Woojin,” Hyunjin says, and he holds out his phone so Woojin can see what’s displayed on the screen: a selfie of Chan and Woojin with their cheeks pressed together, Chan’s tongue licking the side of Woojin’s face and the unmistakable glint of titanium in between.

“Oh,” Woojin says. He faintly remembers Chan asking if he could post a photo of them, but Chan never did tell him which photo he’d used, or where he’d posted it. “Did Chan post that?”

“Yeah, who else?” Hyunjin says. “Certainly wasn’t you, you anti-social-media weirdo. He posted it early this morning.”

That must be why various people in his year have been giving Woojin strange looks all day. Not that he particularly cares about what they think, because he’s more giddy at the fact that Chan posted a picture of them together, even if it wasn’t the most prim and proper selfie out of the whole collection they have. 

When he stops being so internally giggly, he notices Hyunjin observing him with both mild disgust and fondness. “You must really like him,” Hyunjin says, patting Woojin on the shoulder like he’s a proud father instead of someone two years younger than Woojin. “So congratulations, I guess.” 

“I do. Thanks,” Woojin says, and Hyunjin grins at him genuinely, not quite having expected Woojin to be so honest. 

“Saw what you posted,” Woojin says half an hour later, when Chan opens the door to his apartment and lets Woojin in. “Thought you would have picked something safer.”

“What can I say? I’m a multi-faceted man,” Chan says, flashing a heart shaped smile, and the combination of that with his dimples makes Woojin all melty inside. He pulls Woojin down onto the couch with him, yelping when Woojin’s knee bumps into his hip painfully, but he’s still smiling up at Woojin. Sheets of essay papers are spread out all over his coffee table, ballpoint pens in blue and red ink scattered on top of them. “Do you want me to take the post down?”

“No,” Woojin says. It’s too late to take it back at this point. “It’s just that now other people will know, for sure, you have a tongue piercing.”

“They don’t get to taste it though,” Chan says. “Unless you want me to get another secret piercing, for your pleasure only?” His eyes are at half mast as he shifts his body into a more reclined position to allow Woojin to straddle him naturally.

“That’s not necessary,” Woojin says, though a different part of his body is more than enthusiastic at the idea, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Chan.

“Maybe we should get _you_ a secret piercing,” Chan smirks, palming a handful of Woojin’s ass and squeezing. “Do you want it on your nipple or your dick?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Woojin says, half wishing he could tell the world how much of a freak Chan is under all the manners and stacks of achievements just to make his boyfriend less smug about everything, but it’s probably better to keep Chan’s giant gap in character to himself. For the greater good, of course. 

“Make me,” Chan replies with a wink, grinding up against Woojin’s ass as he eyes the crotch of Woojin’s jeans. “Sounds like you like the idea, though.”

“I do not,” Woojin says, but then Chan is unceremoniously unzipping Woojin’s fly and shoving a hand underneath the waistband of Woojin’s underwear to stroke him, and Woojin doesn’t have the attention span to continue arguing when Chan is being so generous.

**Author's Note:**

> hope this wasn't absolutely abysmal. i'd like to think i've improved since the last time i wrote such scandalous subject matter (which was like 6-7 years ago) and as a demi i didn't particularly ENJOY writing the spicy parts, it's just that i really wanted the idea to be brought to life.
> 
> my thoughts on this au (extra facts/backstory stuff)  
> -woojin is an art major who's smarter than he lets on, and rebelled a lot in his youth mostly bc of his sexuality  
> -now that he's got cutie pie chan as his boyfriend, there's really no reason for him to act out  
> -chan is an english/literature major who's liked woojin for a long time, but never acted on it cause he thinks people expect him to be perfect all the time 
> 
> **i had to listen to ava max's sweet but psycho for two days straight to power through writing this. therefore, be kind and.....drop a comment........u have to.......... :) please. /cries at you**
> 
> or at least tell me whether you think chan is the badder boy between him and woojin lmao bc WHEW
> 
> edit 081319: there's a continuation of this au. so...go read that, and the other fics on my profile. if u want. ♥

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] coral knuckles (sweet and a little psycho)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373531) by [the24thkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the24thkey/pseuds/the24thkey)




End file.
